


Comfortember 18: Hot Cocoa

by FlyinBanachab



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fort Briggs, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyinBanachab/pseuds/FlyinBanachab
Summary: Vato Falman is feeling lonely after his transfer to Briggs.
Relationships: Vato Falman/Briggs Doctor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Comfortember 18: Hot Cocoa

Vato Falman had never understood the utility of heated toilet seats until his posting at Fort Briggs. Inside Briggs was much warmer than outside, of course, but it wasn't WARM. You kept your jacket on. Every hard surface- every metal doorknob, wooden chair, and yes, ceramic toilet seat- was uncomfortably cold to the touch.   


He sat now on a cold chair at a cold table in the mess, eating a blessedly, momentarily warm bowl of stew, reading a thermally neutral book. Soldiers and engineers gathered and dispersed around him, though no one asked to join. He resisted the temptation to label them "as cold as everything else here;" it was fine, he'd get to know them eventually. They say Briggs is a monolith, right? Can't be a monolith without incorporating new arrivals.   


A shadow fell across his book and he looked up to see the doctor, holding two ceramic mugs. She'd looked him over when he first arrived, approved him for duty, and that was the last he'd seen her.  


"Hey there. Hot cocoa?"  


He waved it off, wise to this weird little game. "No thanks, I don't have any cash on me."  


She set it down in front of him anyway. "On the house. May I join you?"  


He was suspicious. But also, he hadn't had a real conversation in a week. "Be my guest."  


She took a seat across from him. "Sylvia Kenmore, but everyone calls me Doc."  


"Vato Falman."  


Doc nodded, evidencing the need for the headband. She had a _lot_ of _very fluffy_ hair. "I trust someone's already given you the speech about meeting new people here?"  


"Uh... remind me."  


She frowned slightly. "How long have you been here? A few days now, right?"  


"A week." He was surprised she remembered. But then, Briggs probably doesn’t see a lot of new transfers. "I got the impression people around here keep to themselves." That, or he was being shunned for his association with Mustang. Not so farfetched an idea.  


"Not necessarily, no, this is... things are weird, something's got folks on edge. I don't know what's going on." Was she fishing? Falman hummed noncommittally. Maybe she wasn't, because she kept talking. "Anyway, here's the thing. When you meet someone new, don't ask them about their past. Don't ask how they ended up here. And don't ask about their family."  


Falman sipped his cocoa as if this were a perfectly normal thing to tell someone. He suppressed a wince: it was obviously made from a powder mix. Did Fort Briggs even have access to fresh milk?  


Doc continued, "A lot of us are here for reasons we'd rather not talk about. A lot of us have... questionable pasts. If that's you-- fine, I don't care, don't tell me, doesn't matter. You're here now; you're Briggs now."  


That gave his heart a good twinge. But it's true. He's Briggs now. Mustang doesn't have a team anymore. Doc paused to take a drink, and Falman ventured a question.  


"So what should I talk about? I'm going to be meeting a lot of new people soon." He hoped.  


"Oh you know, current hobbies, the weather-- ask the R&D guys what they're working on, if you want instant best friends. But be prepared for some very long technical answers."  


Falman smiled. "I love long technical answers."  


She laughed at that. She had a nice laugh, he thought. Not just because it was the first one he'd heard in a week. Pointing at his book, she said, "I believe it. What are you reading?"  


He shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Oh uh, it's a history of violin making." Was that very Briggs of him? Probably not. But her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires as she asked,  


"Oh, are you a musician?"  


"No, no," suddenly wishing he were. "I just read a lot. Are you? Oh--" he put his hand to his mouth-- "is that okay to ask?"  


She laughed again, and Falman decided, yes, that was an objectively nice laugh. "Yep, see, present tense, current hobbies," she gave him a thumbs-up, "totally safe. I used to play the cello, actually," her voice took a wistful turn, "but I had to leave her behind. Too cold here, too dry, she'd crack and warp."  


Falman nodded sympathetically. Cellos were happiest around 70 degrees, and he doubted Briggs ever got that warm. "I know the feeling. I was just thinking about how I never understood why heated toilet seats exist until I got here--" he stopped talking abruptly, realizing this was a really weird thing to say to another person, but she raised her mug to him with a grin.  


"Cheers to that." She put on a mock-contemplative look. "Maybe I can requisition some under a medical pretext. You know..." a sly smile spread across her face, and she paused just a second, until Falman had a mouthful of cocoa.  


"...preventing ass casualties."  


Falman attempted to laugh, aspirated cocoa, and had a coughing fit instead. Doc looked extremely proud of herself. Once he had recovered, she continued in a more serious tone, "Another thing about Briggs - material goods are scarce. When you're done with that book, offer it up for trade."  


He hadn't considered that, and felt a pang of anxiety at a future of book scarcity. "Thanks for the advice. Guess I'll have to find out who the other readers are." Implying there were some. That would be nice.  


Doc jabbed a thumb at her chest. (Don't look at her chest! No matter how much that turtleneck wants you to! Wow, she’s got some nice-- no! He snaps his eyes up to hers.) "There's one right here. When it comes time, try and remember who was the first one to welcome you to the fort."

Falman suspected that, even if his memory were merely average, he could not possibly forget. He smiled. He hadn't smiled this much in weeks. "Consider it yours."  


Doc stood then. "Welp, I better get back to it. Good talking, Falman." She remembered his name. "If you get lonely, you know where to find me."  


"Sure! Nice to meet you, Doc. Thanks for stopping by."  


She patted him between the shoulder blades on her way out, and Falman stared after her, wondering. Was she being friendly? Was she flirting? Or was she just after his book?  


Well, only one way to know for sure. How soon was too soon to plausibly finish a book?  



End file.
